The Sceptre of Unlife
by Red Nightfall
Summary: My first attempted fanfic, mainly an attempt to make some of the characters from the game less 2d. e.g. Valsharess being a cackling villain. Starring Sinvyl Barit'tar, 'The Seer', Kimmuriel Oblodra and CHARNAME. And an irascible tiefling, natch.
1. Shebali

_NB: for the purposes of this fic, drow have infravision based on heat patterns, not the darkvision of 3rd edition rules._

I didn't get around to playing HotU until relatively recently (hence the strange timing of this fic); I wanted really to write one for NWN2, but everytime I thought of something it was for HotU, so I gave up the former in favour of this. It's my first fanfic, and probably not very good, but practice makes perfect and all that.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Shebali**

Sinvyl was unsettled. Not frightened, or even nervous, but simply uncomfortable. Her rise to power had been swift, and had earned her many enemies, but she had dispatched them all. Stealth, diplomacy, battle; the opposition had used all of these in an effort to destroy her, but they all had been put down. She had known all along that none could stand against her; Mephistopheles had assured her of this, but now… Now Mephistopheles had told her that there was One who could stop her; One who could bring about the downfall of all she had schemed and struggled to achieve for centuries. Sinvyl knew better than to shrug off the threat.

So it was that Sinvyl Barit'tar sat in her black sapphire throne (courtesy of House Baenre), and shifted – uncomfortably. As a lesser Matron Mother she had grown accustomed to waiting, and it seemed to be a difficult habit to shake. Looking around at the male wizards preparing their spell she was suddenly outraged by their distinct lack of haste. She found the sharp features and slightly hooked nose of the head mage particularly irksome; she would have to do something about that sometime, but for now;

"Enough!" She shrieked. "Would you have me wait? I, the terror of all the Underdark? The dark Queen of Shadow?"

_x x x_

Somewhere in the dim recesses of the Valsharess' bedchamber, Mephistopheles rolled his eyes.

_x x x_

Unsettled was no longer accurate. Sinvyl had expected an image of the Seer, perhaps; possibly that demonspawn bodyguard of hers, even a powerful mage from the surface or that meddlesome witch Quile Veladorn. But now she felt a familiar presence and was downright nervous. She couldn't see anything, and that just made her all the more nervous. Out of habit she switched into the infrared spectrum, but naturally the wizard's augury summoned only an image.

"Have your spells become faulty, fool?" she asked of the wizard, though the painful thumping of her heart told her that the spell had indeed worked. Glancing back at the augury she saw a pair of eyes looking back at her; violet, alien eyes. Shielding her own eyes she boomed to no one in particular:

"Cast a spell of light!"

Five separate light spells immediately lit the throne room. Cursing and squinting through watering eyes she peered again at the image and saw a figure outlined against the glaring light, a figure so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it. The sight shook the Valsharess to her core; it was a figure she had never thought to see again. Trembling, whether from fear or rage it was impossible to tell, Sinvyl stormed from the throne room, dispelling the image with a furious gesture as she went.

_x x x_

In the temple of Lloth in Lith My'athar, the Seer awoke. She recognised all the hallmarks of a vision from her goddess, and sat up in bed to consider what she had Seen.

_Someone who can defeat the Valsharess._ She had hardly dared to hope it was possible. She thought back to the image she had seen; it seemed so clear at the time, but now she struggled to recall the details, like in a dream; that was new. Had it been male or female? The outline of the image had looked female, she thought. No name was mentioned, she was sure. The Seer had not been able to discern what race she was from (she had seemed drow, and yet different somehow), or even what colour her skin or hair were – all she recalled was a shadow and a pair of violet eyes.

The Seer shook her head, helplessly. She had very little to go on – the woman might have been drow, darthiir or rivvil for all she knew. _Although…_ she thought there had been a distinctive feel to their messiah; a stillness, like death. The Seer shivered despite herself. What that meant she couldn't tell, but she smiled; widely and sincerely for the first time in weeks.

_There is still hope._

_x x x_

In her room in the Yawning Portal Inn (the finest room, it had been noted with amusement), the violet eyes opened. In the gloom before daybreak, a figure slipped out of bed; a female-shaped void outlined against the coming dawn. That silhouette had had a peculiar dream – so real; and there was someone she knew… An overwhelming feeling of being observed alerted her that she was not alone.

_xxx_

Shi'narra cursed. She was the finest assassin the Red Sisters had to offer, and she knew that she had executed her plan to perfection thus far; she had been soundless, a mere shadow in the gloom. But her mark was darker than any shadow, and now two violet eyes told Shi'narra that she would have to fight; a situation the Valsharess had explicitly warned to avoid.

She shrugged. If the Valsharess held this female in such high regard, then defeating her in combat would only increase Shi'narra's standing with the Red Sisters. And her target was obviously a drow, and a rogue at that; Shi'narra had never met a drow she could not kill (besides the Valsharess, of course). Besides, with the teleportation spell completed, her opponent was unarmed.

Her snide grin faltered as her target pulled a dagger from beneath her pillow.

_Un-armoured, then,_ she thought with a shrug. Grinning once more, she came in swiftly, dagger leading.

_xxx_

The silhouette was used to fighting with two swords, and felt very exposed with no clothing on. Making a quick mental note to stop sleeping in the buff, she parried the intruder's perfect attack.

_Perfect in a rather prosaic sense,_ she thought to herself at once. This female was obviously as highly trained as any she had encountered, but lacked that sparkle of originality that separated the great from the good. She allowed her attacker to work her blades higher and higher, waiting for the accepted stab to her lower abdomen.

"Do you have a name, houseless one, or shall I simply call you _Shebali_?" Shi'narra often attempted to divert attention from her next strike by engaging her opponent in conversation.

"_Shebali_ will be fine," answered the darkness.

When the anticipated low thrust came, the unconventional parry took Shi'narra by surprise; un unseen riposte buried itself in Shi'narra's throat, and that was the story of her.

As Shebali wiped off her dagger on the clothes of her assailant, she realised that the feeling of being watched was as intense as ever, but before she could act on that thought the door to the room burst open, and in skidded Tamsil, the innkeeper's daughter. Taking in the scene, with a surprised expression curiously similar to that of the dead drow, Tamsil's gaze came to rest on the hero who's anticipated arrival had gotten everyone so wound up with excitement. She was her idol; the Hero of Neverwinter, Medusa's Bane, Saviour of the North and completely buck naked.

"Damn drow teleported my gear away," Shebali explained, the feeling of being observed made even more unsettling by her current state of undress. "Even got my undergarments," she added wistfully.

_xxx_

The crystal clouded over, and the Valsharess' scowl deepened at the sight of Mephistopheles' lewd grin. Turning to her lieutenant, who was standing to attention awaiting her mistress' whim, she said "Send an elite squad to that wretched inn and kill everything that moves."

_xxx_

In the temple of Lith My'athar the Seer smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced up to see a similar smile upon the face of her commander, Imloth; and a silly grin plastered all over the face of Sergeant Ossyr. She turned to regard the fiery haired tiefling beside her, whose face was set in its customary scowl.

Suddenly aware that he was being observed, Valen hastily rearranged his features into what he hoped was a relieved smile.

The Seer was not fooled. She sighed, unsure of how best to massage the ego of her Weapons Master.

"Valen –" she began.

"Please excuse me, Seer," he interrupted. "I have to attend this morning's drills." His curt tone wiped the smile from the Seer's face, and Valen felt a twinge of guilt as he half-bowed and swept from the room, without waiting for a reply.

The Seer sighed again. Imloth, sensing her unease, laid a comforting hand upon her slender ebon arm.

"He must come to terms with the vision on his own; you cannot help him in this," he said softly. "Valen will come around."

The Seer smiled warmly at sweet, comforting, ever-present Imloth; thanking Eilistraee for perhaps the thousandth time that she had such a friend she could count on.

_xxx_

In the Yawning Portal, Shebali had taken up Tamsil's offer to lend her some clothes. She wandered down the Inn's stairs dressed in the only thing that would fit; a light summer dress and a pair of sandals. The vibrant green fabric contrasted magnificently with her shadowy skin. In the dim light of the inn, Tamsil could more clearly make out Shebali's features; she was undoubtedly beautiful, with bee-stung lips and striking cheekbones, but the pervasive darkness around her was rather sinister, she thought. Despite all the hype surrounding this 'hero', Tamsil felt supremely uncomfortable in her presence. Looking at Shebali was like looking into the void.

…_The void looks into you;_ Tamsil wasn't sure where the thought had come from, but right now it seemed a profound truth. The bright floaty dress Shebali had chosen seemed like some macabre form of gallows humour enshrouding death itself. _Ridiculous! _Tamsil shook herself; she was letting her imagination run off with her. Still, she kept a respectful distance between them.

Shebali declined the offer of taking a sword from the armoury; they were weakly enchanted and poorly balanced, and too cumbersome for her liking. Neither did it have any suitable armour, so she went downstairs to meet the innkeeper, Durnan, with only two daggers (one courtesy of her would be assassin) and the magical gem she looted from the drow.

_Time to meet my adoring fans,_ she thought.

* * *

Bit of a short and broken up first chapter, I know, but I was never very good at introductions. Oh, and sorry about the fight scene; I'm worse at those than I am at introductions. 


	2. The Only One Who Ever Knew Her

Thanks to Stellaria11 for the review and for pointing out the he/she/it faux pas.

As implied in the previous chapter, Shebali is the Hero of Neverwinter from the original campaign. My reasons for doing this are simply that I think it's silly that there are so many high level heroes around who kick back and talk smart, leaving the task of saving Toril to the level 0 newbies; and also I preferred it when it took a whole game to get to level 8, whereas now it takes half that time to get to level 18. So it was really just to satisfy personal gripes, and has little bearing on the plot.

* * *

**The Only One Who Ever Knew Her**

Valen was angry. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when he was not angry; that came with the demon blood and the blood war. Still, these days he was able to put his personal feelings aside, and do what must be done for the good of the Seer. If this prophesised saviour was to be their salvation, Valen certainly wasn't going to stand in the way. If, however, she turned out to be just another enemy, she would be dead, and no harm done. Valen nodded to himself, calm coming with resolution; he would watch this newcomer, when she came, night and day (figuratively speaking), and have Imloth guard the Seer. Either way, the Seer would not be harmed.

_xxx_

Shebali's countenance did not register the shock she felt upon descending the Inn's stairs to be met with four familiar faces. With a smile that looked for all the world as though she was pleased to see her former companions, she stepped swiftly up to greet them. As they exchanged pleasantries, Shebali silently berated herself for not enquiring about the Inn's guests; she would not have been caught by surprise if she had simply asked Tamsil who was here, but what with the assassin and all…

She realised she was being asked a question. "Sorry?" she asked, mentally shaking herself.

"Where have you been hiding for the last few months?" Linu repeated, with an understanding smile. Linu had always loved Shebali; she recognised in her a kindred spirit, a kind heart.

"Oh, the plane of Shadow, Sigil, Port Llast," she answered airily.

"Port Llast?" laughed Tomi. Linu and Daelan, even Sharwyn to some extent, had only tolerated Tomi to begin with because of Shebali. The others had thought that her kind nature had pushed her into giving him a chance, but Tomi knew better. They say there is no honour among thieves, but Shebali was a damn fine sneak, and Tomi had to respect that.

"Being a Hero ain't all portals and spelljamming, you know," Shebali winked.

"Don't we just," muttered Sharwyn.

Shebali paused for a moment… _four_ familiar faces… "Where's Boddyknock?" she asked.

Four faces grew suddenly sombre, though Shebali could have sworn she saw the corner of Tomi's mouth twitching.

"Poor soul," said Linu after the moment's silence. "He met with an accident."

In the dim light of the inn Shebali's raised eyebrow did not go unnoticed.

"Yeah," Tomi explained, "he needed a dragon's tooth for an experiment. I guess the sleeping potion didn't work…"

Linu, Daelan and Sharwyn saw a tear roll down a black cheek. Tomi saw a smirk twitch a black mouth.

"We should go down to Durnan, he's waiting for you," Daelan said gently. Shebali was everything Daelan admired, an honourable warrior with a noble soul; he had always been proud to fight beside her, and he looked forward now to doing so once more.

Shebali nodded, and turned for the door.

"I like your dress," Sharwyn remarked. As a bard, Sharwyn valued valiant heroes and epic battles; she and Shebali were on the same wavelength - they were in it for the glory; to become walking legends. They had always gotten on.

_xxx_

Durnan had not met the celebrated hero of Neverwinter when she had arrived yesterday in the dead of night. He had heard plenty about her, of course, though he rarely credited the rumours that came through his tavern. He had heard that this woman was a living shadow; that she was composed of the very souls of those she had vanquished in combat; that she was a drow elf. The latter of these, Durnan believed, perfectly explained the other, more fanciful rumours.

When Shebali descended the stairs to speak with him, Durnan was surprised just how much she resembled a living shadow; her skin was darker than any drow he had seen (not that he had seen many), and her hair, reaching almost to her knees, was equally dark, and seemed to ripple in its long ponytail, as if buffeted by an unfelt breeze. In the moderate light of the bar, Durnan could see her eyes; deepest blue, almost black – he thought of the ocean. As she scanned the lightless corners, however those eyes transformed into glowing violet orbs. _Infravision_, Durnan realised, moving forwards to greet her.

_Pointy ears; graceful, fluid strides… she is definitely a drow_, Durnan thought. _But what _else_ is she?And _why_ is she wearing_ _my daughter's favourite dress?_

"Ah, you must be Durnan, the Inkeeper," said Shebali cheerfully. "I have a complaint; the bed was hard as a rock." She winked mischievously.

Durnan grimaced; he had, of course, been informed of the assassin. "I really can't apologise–"

"Don't worry about it," Shebali cut in. "Now, I hear you're mounting some kind of expedition?"

Durnan explained all about the attacks on Waterdeep from Undermountain; the drow, their duergar allies, the assassination of other prominent figures; and then of his plan to discover the source of the troubles.

"Why you and not the Lords of Waterdeep?" Shebali asked with a sly smile that made Durnan highly discomforted.

"The Lords of Waterdeep have their hands full…"

_xxx_

A pair of red eyes watched the scene from the well room. A series of hand gestures communicated battle plans to twenty other pairs of eyes, waiting behind. Then all Hell broke loose.

_xxx_

_Red Sisters,_ thought Shebali. The assassin that had attacked her previously had been wearing nondescript black armour; these drow were wearing the distinctive armour of the Red Sisters. Shebali cursed, causing Tomi to wince.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Shebali smiled; a smile that Tomi believed he understood.

It had occurred to Shebali that the Valsharess may be testing her strength; she felt the unmistakable tingle in the air which came from being scryed, so she resolved to be cautious, she would do only enough to win – no sense displaying her full capabilities.

_xxx_

The Valsharess lay stretched on her luxurious bed, watching Mephistopheles' conjured image of the scene in the Yawning Portal with increasing agitation. Not only did it become clear that her attack would not succeed, but it was also obvious that Shebali was disguising the level of power she had attained. That fact itself was enough to tell the Valsharess that she was a force to be reckoned with – but then, she already knew that. She had learned nothing. The image she had seen in the augury seemed to hang over her like a sword. Problems were to be expected, of course, but Sinvyl had never expected to have to deal with _her _again.

Lying next to her, tracing patterns on her bare flesh, Mephistopheles spoke soothingly, "Perhaps, Great Valsharess, you might consider allowing your enemy to come to you? Why extend yourself unnecessarily? Let this upstart battle through all your legions if she will, then, bloodied and battered, she will face us both on an uneven footing."

Sinvyl considered her agent's words; they had merit, though in truth she had no intention of ever doing battle with _her_. Besides, she stroked her slightly swelling belly, how long would it take the bitch to get to her? It had been three months, give or take, since she had commanded Mephistopheles to provide her with a child, and she did not want to fight so powerful a foe whilst heavily pregnant.

Seeing her agitation, Mephistopheles deftly positioned himself between her legs, and began kissing the insides of her thighs. As the devil's warm tongue moved higher, Sinvyl moaned softly and relaxed – troubles came with power, and could be dealt with later.

_xxx_

The Seer observed the battle from her room in Lloth's temple. She felt distressed by the loss of life in the Valsharess' attack, but she was pleased by the competence shown by Eilistraee's chosen saviour. Not only was she beyond competent in battle, she was obviously holding back, not wanting to reveal the extent of her skill to her enemy – this showed wisdom and foresight, both necessary for the coming fight.

Each passing day her spirits improved, as, she believed, did the rebel's chances for survival. Her smile faltered when she considered the scope of her enemy… images of Duergar, Tannaruks and countless goblins and kobolds filled her mind; and what about the arch-devil? City after city had fallen before the Valsharess, Eryndlyn, Ched Nasad, Sshamath, Sschindylryn and even Menzoberranzan. Mighty Baenre had been reduced to a mere vassal of house Barit'tar, ruling house of the Ilythiiri.

The Seer frowned – never had she been one to dwell on the negative. _These are not my thoughts_, she realised. As if in answer to this revelation, a figure stepped out of a blue shimmering interdimensional doorway. The Seer's heart thudded painfully in her chest – it had been a long time since she had engaged in combat. She prepared to call on her goddess for aid, and, as if sensing this, the figure crossed its arms in the manner accepted by drow to signal peaceful intent.

The Seer relaxed slightly, but remained wary; this was a drow she was dealing with, after all. As the intruder moved into the light, the seer saw that it was a male, so exquisite was he in feature that he was almost _painfully _handsome. He was dressed in fine robes, intricately embroidered with runes of power, and tailored to be practical as well as flattering. His silvery hair was cut shortish, and was stylishly dishevelled. Above all, this male radiated an aura of perfect control, hinting at an astronomical intellect, and a willpower that was beyond even the Seer.

With this came the arrogance of bearing that so often accompanied individuals who were simply superior. It was not, however, in the nature of the Seer to feel intimidated; and upon closer inspection the interloper bore the unmistakeable signs of having been brutally and extensively tortured. The Seer filed this observation away for future use.

"Greetings, Seer. Kimmuriel Oblodra, at your service," Kimmuriel thought it best to keep such introductions in the realm of the spoken word.

"Ah," the Seer showed no surprise. "How fares the Bregan D'aerthe?"

"These are troubling times, as you are aware," Kimmuriel's smile did not reach his blood red eyes. "But when awaiting one's messiah, troubles no doubt seem far away."

"What is your proposition?"

"A business relationship, then, is it?" he quipped. "Very well. As you have no doubt noticed, I have not fared well under the rule of the Valsharess. She loathes males, and with her… other… assistance she has little use for the Bregan D'aerthe."

"Indeed," the Seer responded. "In fact, I'm rather surprised there still is a Bregan D'aerthe."

"Quite," he smirked, mirthlessly. "There are few of us left, too few. Only the finest have survived. I myself was kept as a 'guest' of the Valsharess for many months. Her illithid allies prevented my escape, until recently…"

"What do you know about Eilistraee's chosen?"

"Kiira?" Kimmuriel feigned disinterest. "Very little, I'm afraid."

_A name, to match the face, at least, _the Seer smiled, and asked casually "But you have information on the Valsharess?"

_She is good,_ Kimmuriel thought. But she was not good enough to fool him. He knew the worth of his information. Out of respect for the Seer's abilities, he decided to play it straight…

"I will offer you the information I have garnered, along with the services of those of us left, in exchange for a few favours…"

_xxx_

Kiira the _shebali_ frowned. The battle had not ended well. Her foolish former companions had run off into Undermountain; chasing a beholder into an obvious ambush. And to top it off, she was now holding Tamsil's flimsy dress up, the straps having been sliced in the battle. With a scowl she accepted a gift of a resurrection rod from a jumped up floozy called White Thesta, and turned to see a kobold grinning toothily at her.

Kiira's scowl evaporated at the sight of the ridiculous creature, and she swept him up in a one armed hug and spun him around. "Deekin!"

Deeking yipped. Whether in fear, or excitement, it was impossible to tell. "Boss!" he squeaked jubilantly. Deekin had never understood the Boss; he had no illusions that he ever would, but what he did know was that she had given him a chance to prove himself when no one else would, and that was enough for Deekin.

"So, Deekin, I'm going down under to whomp some drow, you up for it?"

"Deekin thinks you never ask!" he squawked.


	3. Inflammatory Wit

**Inflammatory Wit**

Kiira looked around the room at the destruction. The undead had been powerful, but had predictably attacked Deekin, Sharwyn and Daelan instead of her. Those three corpses stuck out like sore thumbs among the decomposing skeletons that now littered the floor. She idled about the room, collecting the loot and considering recent events. _The Red Sisters,_ she thought. _**Sinvyl**__ stole my equipment_, she almost laughed at the irony of it. Holding up her left hand, she gazed at a band of white mithral on her ring finger. _At least she didn't get you,_ she fondled the ring. The thought of losing it was unpleasant indeed. Even more unpleasant than losing her precious sword.

_But with the sword gone…_ she toyed with the idea of removing the ring – what did the people near her right now matter anyway? She smirked at the corpses. She had been away from her people for five years and still got no closer to ridding herself of the need for that ring; maybe it couldn't be done whilst under its influence…

She closed her fingers around the band and shifted it slowly up her finger – it had left an indentation in the flesh where it had been there for so long – as the warm metal slid slowly over her finger joint she felt the energy with in her rise. It was like slipping into a warm bath after a long, cold, dirty journey. Slowly went the band, and Kiira smiled as she felt the moment of release approaching – the ring was level with her nail now, and just as she went to remove it, she felt an unfamiliar telepathic intrusion.

A gleaming black blade at her feet was trying to talk to her.

_xxx_

"What have you discovered about Kiira?" the Seer began.

"You have what I asked for?" Kimmuriel replied. In the corner, Valen ground his teeth; he didn't like the way the Psion addressed the Seer, and he didn't like what the Psion was asking for.

The Seer frowned, not at all pleased with the bargain she had made; trading people was something she was not comfortable with. "Yes," she sighed. "This is Grey Maeviir, second daughter to Matron Myrune."

An attractive drow with stark white hair bowed graciously to Kimmuriel.

"She recently converted to the worship of Vhaeraun, I hope this is acceptable to you? She is a talented cleric."

Kimmuriel observed the Vhaeraunite for a moment, scouring her thoughts before nodding. "The one known as Kiira, a friend of Harpers," he began disdainfully, "came to Waterdeep from Baldur's Gate. Bregan D'aerthe has tracked her movements back, and we believe she came to that city from the plane of shadow."

Kimmuriel paused, allowing the Seer to properly digest what she was hearing, and to ensure the enquiry went in the direction he had planned. "And before then?" the Seer asked.

"From Undrentide, a flying Netherese city which, through the use of a mythal, was reactivated by a student of the lich Balpheron." Another pause. "Kiira was given the task of preventing such a thing by a harper called Drogan Droganson, who was her teacher."

The Seer nodded. "Anything else?"

"My informants tell me that Kiira was also instrumental in ridding the human city of Neverwinter of a deadly plague, and preventing a resurgence of the fabled creator races. Thus she is known by the surfacers as 'the Hero of Neverwinter'."

The Seer smiled; so did Kimmuriel, he had told her just what she wanted to hear, and so avoided the topics he wanted very much to avoid.

"Do you know anything of her earlier years?"

"Her origins are shrouded in mystery," Kimmuriel answered evasively. "She claims to be a full blooded drow, though her appearance would seem to suggest otherwise."

The Seer nodded again; she knew Kimmuriel was not being honest with her, or at least, was not telling her everything he knew, but she had expected as much.

"Why does the Valsharess despise you so?" Valen unexpectedly cut in.

His question caught Kimmuriel off guard, though his trademark stony expression betrayed nothing. "I have no idea," he lied. "I suppose she simply dislikes males with the power to refuse her..." he added a suggestive smirk, and turned to leave.

Valen stepped into his path, and made to put a restraining hand on the Psion's shoulder, but wisely stopped short as the drow's eyes narrowed dangerously. Valen tried to assert his authority; "I assume you will continue your investigations?"

"Never _assume_ anything, iblith, except the occasional air of intelligence." With that acerbic reply, Kimmuriel opened a dimensional portal and stepped through; a pointed reminder of the power of the mind over the body, leaving the weapons master growling audibly.

The Seer watched him go with distinct discomfort; she knew that the dangerous Psion had no love for the followers of Eilistraee, and she now feared what would happen should they prevail as well as should they fall.

_xxx_

Deekin, Sharwyn and Daelan were not pleased. They had not been pleased to fight the blue dragon either; or to look in each and every mirror in that accursed hall; or to disturb the mummy lord. They had not wanted to fight the ogre mage, or go looking for the fairy bomb maker. They had just wanted to sneak through Undermountain and sneak out again.

Kiira, on the other hand, was very pleased. She had found more than enough loot to pay off her tab with Argali, and now had a very nice new blade. _A pity I can't communicate with it unless I remove my ring,_ she thought. But with her companions around, that wasn't an option. Still, she had had a good chinwag (figuratively speaking) with Enserric, as it called itself, before resurrecting them, and was pleased with the sword's abilities. And surely that nasal whine in her head was no great loss.

Enserric the Dagger was now strapped to her thigh; something it had made a number of lewd remarks about before Kiira had put her ring back on.

_xxx_

"He is dangerous, you can't trust him," Valen warned the Seer.

"I know, Valen, but we must take allies where we find them," the Seer replied.

"And what makes you think he's an ally? He could be a spy. He knows more about this 'saviour' than he's letting on," the Seer didn't miss the sceptical accent Valen placed on 'saviour'.

She nodded; she knew that trusting the Psion was a dangerous move, but she didn't believe that Kimmuriel was a spy; for one thing…

"And I know you say he was tortured by the Valsharess, but don't you think she tortures everyone? Friend and foe? And he won't even tell you why." Valen anticipated her.

In truth, the Seer knew the real reason Valen was so upset – he was understandably uncomfortable having someone around that could read, even perhaps control, his mind. Someone who had no reason to fear the tiefling's physical power.

"He called me iblith," Valen tried.

"I shall ask him to temper his language," the Seer smiled.

Valen growled and turned away.

_xxx_

"I don't think this is a good idea," Daelen said.

"Why ever not? Would you prefer to face a drow patrol?" Linu asked.

"Stupid question," remarked Tomi.

"What makes you think we can trust these creatures?" The barbarian folded his arms.

"We helped them, they help us; it makes sense," Sharwyn explained.

"And that strange drow? You trust her?" Daelan pressed.

"She seemed honest enough," Linu answered innocently.

"She's a _drow!_" Daelen began.

Kiira coughed softly. "Boss is drow," Deekin rasped helpfully.

"Err, I mean…" the half-orc stammered. "The tunnel could collapse in on us!"

Kiira's mouth twitched up. "You're claustrophobic!"

Daelan spluttered indignantly, and Tomi roared. "Ha! Great and fearless Daelan!" the Halfling snickered. Sharwyn tittered.

"I-I…"

"There's no shame in it, Daelan," Linu said, her trademark kind smile twitching dangerously.

"I am not!" Daelan blurted.

"Great!" Kiira said, "Let's take the tunnel, then."

Daelan groaned and nodded, defeated.

_xxx_

"My stuff!" Kiira exulted. She rifled through the contents of the chest she had found, caressing the items lovingly. There was her fine chain mail armour, her many magical tokens, her soft leather gloves, and her sword.

To Sharwyn's human vision, all that could be seen was two glowing violet eyes and a white grin in the gloom. Kiira drew her magnificent crescent shaped blade, and swung it about experimentally. She changed into her old gear, with the exception of her boots; she had found some beautifully crafted, soft soled boots which made her move with speed that would baffle the eye.

Now Kiira grinned evilly; _Sinvyl, you have made a very great mistake, _she thought.


	4. The Eighth Deadly Sin

This short chapter is an homage to Oscar Wilde, all credit to said genius. And WotC and all that...

**Chapter 4 – The Eighth Deadly Sin**

"You take the two on the left, I'll take those three on the right, Linu – cast your spells on the leader. Tomi – you know what to do, and Deekin… err, Deekin–"

"Deekin sings his songs," Deekin helpfully interrupted Daelan.

"_I'm_ the one who sings!" Sharwyn protested.

"Deekin too small for combat – Deekin get smushed," he whined.

"Can't you do a duet?" asked Linu, ever the peacemaker.

"Song of Swords?" Asked Sharwyn.

"Red Dawn," argued Deekin.

"A sharp major?" Asked Sharwyn through gritted teeth.

"G major," replied Deekin happily.

"I'm harp, you're flute," Sharwyn said desperately.

"Deekin does best with harp; scaly lips not so good for woodwind…"

Sharwyn seethed "Fine."

As an emissary for the Seer, Nathyrra didn't think it her place to interfere with the leadership of the group; however she did say "Where's Kiira?"

All six companions looked around fearfully; there was no sign of Kiira, but a drow scout did spy them from the room ahead. "Charge!" roared Daelan, alerting everything in a five mile radius of their assault.

Nathyrra sighed testily and blended into the shadows. Sharwyn and Deeking began singing different and violently clashing songs. Tomi disappeared, and Linu began casting at everything in sight, before tripping over the prone form of the drow scout, taken out by Daelan's furious charge.

Halaster seemed to appreciate the chaos as he stood in his magical cage, chuckling madly.

The experienced drow soon regained control, however. Daelan and the other surfacers were no match for them, despite the odd individual that was inexplicably lost to the shadows. By the end of the battle, Sharwyn, Daelan and Linu were dead once more.

Slipping a white ring over her finger, Kiira stepped out of the shadows without a scratch to meet Nathyrra and Tomi's raised eyebrows. Deekin didn't have eyebrows.

"Where is the group's leader?" Nathyrra asked the room.

"She is indisposed," Kiira answered quietly.

"She's dead?"

"_Indisposed_," Kiira repeated.

"We can't afford to let any of the Valsharess' troops get back to her!" Nathyrra argued.

Kiira turned an icy glare on the officious assassin, "She no longer exists in any meaningful sense of the word; the Valsharess will find no use for her."

The coldness in that statement gave Nathyrra pause, and for the first time she really appreciated that their supposed saviour was drow. She nodded in acceptance, and turned her attention to the captured mage.

In truth, Kiira had no problem disposing of the drow leader, but she hadn't appreciated Nathyrra's interference, and she wanted to send a clear message to the Valsharess.

Sizing up the trapped wizard, Kiira considered removing her ring again – how she would enjoy pillaging that mind of all its contents! The thought of catching his madness put a stop to those plans, and instead she destroyed the device holding him.

_xxx_

The Seer, Valen, Imloth and Kimmuriel stood in the temple of Lloth, observing the scene in Undermountain. As Halaster placed a geas on their saviour, the Seer gasped, and placed a delicate hand over her mouth. A spasm of anger crossed the exceptional countenance of Kimmuriel, but was gone before anyone saw it.

Valen was the first to speak, "I thought–"

"There's your problem in a nutshell," sniped Kimmuriel.

Valen snapped a furious glare on the Psion, teeth bared. "_I thought_," he began through clenched jaw, "that this was supposed to be Eilistraee's chosen. Why does she need a geas to make her help us?"

"_Eilistraee's_ chosen, not Halaster's chosen," Kimmuriel replied dismissively. The Seer nodded in agreement, though she did not like the distaste with which the Psion said her goddess' name.

Valen brought his hulking form to its full height "Well, Mr. 'I'm so clever that I sometimes don't understand a single word of what I'm saying'…"

Kimmuriel sneered in contempt. "Is it fear of being usurped that has you so on edge?"

Valen took two swift steps towards the slender drow, but stopped at a signal from the Seer. "Is it clever to used words as a mask for one's sins?" he growled.

"There is no sin besides stupidity," Kimmuriel replied pointedly.

"Keep talking and I'll bury my fist in your face," spat the tiefling.

"You'll find brute force ineffective, brute reason on the other hand…" Kimmuriel had found a new favourite pastime; tiefling baiting.

"You're lucky you didn't meet me before I regained my humanity…" he threatened.

"_Humanity!_" the drow scoffed, fingering a silvery ring on a slender ebon finger.

"You're not capable of understanding what it is to be human!" Valen's decibel level was steadily increasing.

"Certainly I am, a human is a rational animal who always loses his temper when he is called upon to act in accordance with the dictates of reason," quipped the drow. "Or was that a demon?"

The tiefling snapped, and rushed at the drow, meaning to dismember him with his bare hands. Valen only realised that Kimmuriel was no longer quite corporeal when he lunged straight through him and crashed into a new arrival.

"_Oof!_" was the sound of the air being knocked out of Kiira as 250 pounds of tiefling barrelled into her.


	5. Black Goals and Revelations

**Black Goals and Revelations**

Kiira shot a caustic look at the crimson-haired tiefling as she picked herself up off the floor. Sparing a glance for Kimmuriel, she turned her attention to the Seer, who smiled warmly at her.

"Welcome, Kiira. We have awaited you're arrival with great anticipation."

The introduction was interrupted by a squawking voice; "Deekin can'ts understand what drow lady says! How Deekin write epic tale of Boss when he doesn't know what Boss says?"

Kimmuriel regarded the kobold with equal parts interest and distain, but the Seer smiled kindly at the diminutive bard. Instructing him to remain still, she called on the power of Eilistraee to grant the kobold the ability to comprehend their dark tongue.

"That will be sufficient for the moment, but I shall speak to the High Wizard Gulhrys about something more permanent."

"Ooh, that better!" Deekin yipped happily.

As the Seer continued her speech, describing their predicament with the Valsharess, Kiira allowed her mind to wander, roaming out of focus until it alighted on a familiar psyche.

_I confess myself surprised by the mode of your arrival;_ a foreign mind pierced her thoughts. O_r was this your plan all along?_

_Did I __**plan**__ to become the slave of some eilistraeen priestess? What do you think, Kimmuriel?_

_Temper, _he chided. _It changes nothing; Sinvyl Barit'tar will meet her end at your hands regardless of the interference of one officious mage._

_Certainly,_ she replied. _After all, you never were able to get __**yourself**__ out of trouble, were you?_

_Is that the best you can do, Kiira?_

_I've had a hard day, _she mentally shrugged.

_Ah yes, the Valsharess got your memo. That was one of her favourite handmaidens – nice work by the way._

Kiira smirked, thinking of the drow leader she had dispatched earlier.

xxx

Sinvyl regarded the gibbering wreck on the floor in front of her. This had been one of her finest lieutenants and a favourite of hers in the bedroom when she tired of Mephisopheles.

"Always watching, always seeing. Inside out and upside down, down, down!"

Mephistopheles listened to the ranting with interest, before declaring his professional opinion. "Her mind is gone," he said dismissively, as he turned and left the room.

_Her mind is gone,_ the Valsharess mouthed incredulously. What was an archdevil worth if that was the best he could come up with?

"She's coming, coming, coming. Tastes like zombies, flat and tall, SHE'S COMING!" the former handmaiden collapsed into hysterical laughter.

Sighing, Sinvyl used a wand upon the crazy drow, disintegrating her.

xxx

The Seer regarded Kiira, puzzled. She hadn't said anything in the least amusing, yet the strange drow was smirking.

Aware that she was becoming conspicuous, Kiira straightened her face.

"Allow me to introduce you to my associates," the Seer gestured elegantly to the room at large.

"Nathyrra you know," the assassin inclined her head to Kiira. "This is Valen Shadowbreath," the Seer motioned in the direction of the tiefling who had knocked her over. "Valen is my Weapons Master and commander of my army." Valen glowered impressively down at Kiira, who smiled charmingly back.

"This is commander Imloth, second in command," an older drow nodded graciously. "And sergeant Ossyr, the captain of the gate." Ossyr smiled goofily.

"This," she said slightly frostily, "is Kimmuriel Oblodra, current commander of the Bregan D'aerth."

"Greetings, Kiira, chosen of Eilistraee." No hint of mirth was evident in his voice, but he was obviously enjoying himself. "So good to finally meet you. Allow me to introduce the Bregan D'aerthe." A blue portal opened behind him, and out stepped five individuals.

"_The_ Bregan D'aerth?" Kiira asked with delight. "_All_ of them? Oh my dear, what _will_ Jarlaxle say?"

Kimmuriel seemed to grit his teeth. "I'm afraid the Valsharess has little use for the Bregan D'aerthe, Jarlaxle or no Jarlaxle."

"Everyone has a use for Jarlaxle…" she smirked.

Kimmuriel's face was like a statue, voice emotionless as he introduced the remainder of his small band.

"Valas Hune, scout. Valas has recently returned from Menzoberranzan. He was selected for a mission to investigate Lloth's disappearance, but since the Valsharess took over…" he trailed off. Valas nodded courteously to Kiira.

The Psion turned to a moderately attractive male warrior. "Kalan Vandree, an exceptional fighter from Melee-Magthere. Unfortunately, his relatively low birth prevented him from ascending to the heights he deserves, so naturally he joined Bregan D'aerthe to broaden his horizons." Kalan did not look as though his horizons were particularly broad at the present time, but lowered his gaze respectfully to the female nonetheless.

"Pharaun Mizzrym," Kimmuriel gestured to a stylishly dressed and handsome drow male. "Pharaun was a master at Sorcere, before his house was destroyed when the Valsharess took over."

Pharaun bowed gracefully. "My extensive talents in the arcane arts are at you're disposal, mistress."

Ignoring the extravagant wizard, Kimmuriel continued; "Sorn Kenafin, until recently Weapons Master of House Kenafin. Lloth's disappearance seems to have made the violent priestesses of House Kenafin even more vicious, leading to widespread desertion among the males."

"And finally, our newest addition; Grey Mae'vir." Kimmuriel indicated an attractive drow female, dressed in the livery of House Mae'vir, first house of Lith My'athar. "Grey is an accomplished cleric of Vhaeraun, offered to our cause courtesy of the Seer." The faintest of smirks touched the Psion's lips as he spoke. Glancing at the Seer, Kiira noticed the faintest of creases between her snowy eyebrows.

With the introductions concluded, the Seer went into a detailed account of the allies of the Valsharess, and a somewhat smaller list of her enemies. After several hours spent discussing tactics and strategies, the Seer adjourned their meeting, announcing an invitation from Matron Myrune of House Mae'vir for them all to dine with her house tomorrow night. With this delightful prospect in mind, Kiira set out to explore the city.

xxx

In a dark alleyway in Lith My'athar, two shadows approached one another.

_What happened to your hair? _Thought Kiira.

_The Valsharess,_ Kimmuriel replied.

_It looks good._

_Much obliged,_ came Kimmuriel's dry response._ What happened to the Crescent Blade?_

_It's in my pack,_ Kiira smiled._ The Seer may have recognised it._

_Has the time not come for that? _Kimmuriel questioned.

_Not yet._

Kiira was now inches away from the statuesque form of the Psion. As one they lifted up a hand, intertwining their fingers, tendrils of thought wrapping round each other. The two silvery rings on the interlocked fingers seemed to shine subtly in the dark as their owners let their conscious minds blend. Whether a minute passed there, or an eon, neither could tell nor care.

Kimmuriel suddenly stepped back, opening a portal with a thought. He said aloud "Care to join me, or would you prefer the temple?"

Kiira smiled, and stepped through the portal.

xxx

When everyone but Nathyrra, Imloth, Valen and the Seer had left the temple, the Seer turned to her trusted advisors with an inquiring expression.

"Well, that was… interesting," Imloth kicked off. "Do you know anything about her, Seer?"

"Little beyond which Kimmuriel has grudgingly told me," the Seer replied. "Though the name Kiira is familiar to me, though I can't place why. I shall make enquiries."

"What about her _unusual _appearance?" Nathyrra asked.

"I understand what it is you ask, but I am unsure," the Seer replied. "Her condition is, as far as I know, unique among the drow."

"I sense an aura of the planes about her," Valen said. "Not Baator or the Abyss, but somewhere _else._ Cavallas or Gulhrys might be able to tell you more."

The Seer nodded. "I have prepared a summoning," she informed them.

The others glanced nervously at each other.

"While I dislike dealing with the lower planes, I believe they may be of some assistance here. I needed only to know which archdevil the Valsharess has bound, so that I could summon from the correct level of Baator. That information has been given to me by Kimmuriel."

Valen snorted at the mention of the psion, and the Seer turned an inquiring gaze to him.

"The psion can't be trusted. Neither can Kiira, for that matter. But the _prophecy_ does not concern the Bregan D'aerthe, we do not need them. Let me get rid of him before he causes us more trouble!"

"Kimmuriel may yet prove a useful ally, and Eilistraee knows, we need all that we can get," the Seer replied.

"He has his own agenda! And he is not bound by any geas, he will betray us," the tiefling stuck out his jaw in defiance.

"He is not to be trusted," agreed Nathyrra. "His mind powers are too dangerous to be ignored. We can't afford to lose any of our number to the Bregan D'aerthe, for one thing."

"Killing Kimmuriel, assuming we're even able to, is not the answer," the Seer insisted. "Fighting amongst ourselves will only weaken us."

"Perhaps it's time the Bregan D'aerthe had a new leader?" Nathyrra suggested. "A female leader?"

"You refer to Kiira?" Imloth asked, surprised.

"That would never work," the Seer interrupted. "The Bregan D'aerthe will always need a male leader; that is the nature of the organisation."

"Well, what about Jarlaxle?" Imloth suggested. "He can keep Kimmuriel in line, he'll be accepted by the band, and he's easier to deal with."

"I wouldn't say easier to deal with, exactly," the Seer mused, "but you have a point. But what could we offer him that would tempt him to return?"

"Perhaps merely informing him of the current state of his beloved mercenary band would do the trick?" Nathyrra suggested.

The Seer considered for a long moment, then nodded. Smiling like only a drow can, Nathyrra rose and made her way from the temple; she had a long way to travel.

xxx

In the early hours of the morning, Kiira propped herself up in bed and regarded the drow lying beside her.

_It won't be long before the Seer realises who I am, if she hasn't already. We need a plan._ She thought.

_We have a plan_, countered Kimmuriel.

_I mean a__** real**__ plan, something beyond 'kill Sinvyl'_.

_Ah, you mean you want to discuss the method by which you will supplant her?_ the psion raised an elegant silvery eyebrow.

_Naturally. What do you know about the archdevil?_

_It is Mephistopheles_.

Kiira cursed. _How in the nine Hells did that little harpy get hold of Mephistopheles' true name?_

_Does that matter? _Kimmuriel shrugged. _But of course it does, because you want it too._

_I don't think I like your tone, __**male.**_

_Why must you be so acquisitory?_ Kimmuriel disregarded her slight._ We have more important things to consider._

_What was your agreement with the Seer?_ Kiira asked accusingly.

_We have no agreement._

_Do not lie to me, male. I know you asked her for something, besides that Mae'vir whelp._

_You're mistaken, and do not call me male._

Kiira's eyes narrowed, and like lightning, she whipped off her ring, and straddled the male. Psioninc whips lashed out from her mind, and before the psion could raise his defences he was pinned to the bed. Kiira closed a hand around his smooth throat and snarled;

"Do not test me, Kimmuriel. Now, what was your agreement?"

Straining, both against her mental intrusions and the pressure on his windpipe, the psion managed a smirk.

Kiira planted a knee on his stomach, and shifted her weight on to it suddenly. Kimmuriel gasped as the sudden pressure re-fractured his ribs, still tender from his stay with the Valsharess.

Feeling the drow's back arch suddenly from the lancing pain; Kiira released her grip on his neck and rolled off, slipping her ring back on. Watching the psion's breath coming in short, pained gasps, his exquisite features set in a grimace of agony; she reached for a wand of healing, and wordlessly mended his cracked ribcage. The male couldn't suppress a relieved sigh, as the pain fled.

Wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, he said "The Mirror of All-Seeing. That was what I asked for; it's around here, somewhere. That and to negotiate with the Overmind of Zorvak-Mur."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The psion just shrugged, his face expressionless, and Kiira bent down to place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Bringing her lips to brush against his ear, she whispered "I didn't mean to hurt you."


	6. Lazy Days

**Lazy Days**

"Could you pass the ribs, please?" asked Kiira.

With a scowl, Valen handed her the platter of Rothe Ribs.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Matron Myrune, my compliments on the excellence of the food, you have truly surpassed yourself."

Matron Myrune smiled haughtily as she sat at the head of the table, presiding over the meal.

The Seer nodded her head in agreement. "Indeed," she said, "I don't think I have eaten this well for a century."

Myrune smirked, but said "I was so disappointed that your charming lieutenant was unable to join us this evening. I had heard great things of her, and was looking forward to making her acquaintance."

"Unfortunately, Nathyrra has left Lith Myathar on a mission of utmost urgency. I regret her absence, but it is necessary. I'm certain she would be happy to meet you when she returns."

Matron Myrune nodded imperiously, but Kiira's expression hardened. _Where has Nathyrra gone, so soon after my arrival?_ She thought.

Unexpectedly, a mind answered: _I am unsure; I must be cautious about probing the thoughts of our 'allies', lest they discover me._

_Naturally,_ Kiira replied. _I had wanted the assassin's assistance in dealing with our friend Sinvyl, but we shall have to begin without her._

_The Bregan D'aerthe is at your disposal, as always._ Kimmuriel caught her eye for a second and smirked.

_What are you going to do about Jarlaxle?_ Kiira asked. _He'll find out what's happened sooner or later; he's probably already suspicious because of your break in communication._

_Jarlaxle will understand,_ Kimmuriel replied, though he did not sound too sure of himself. _What happened was unavoidable, he would have fared no better._

_I'm not so sure. After all, Sinvyl has no particular grudge against Jarlaxle; our past association was probably a motivating factor in her aggression towards you._

_That may be so,_ the Psion replied, _but still, with Mephistopheles in tow, Sinvyl has no particular use for a mercenary band. She would have disposed of us sooner or later._

_Perhaps, _Kiira replied._ So, do you have any intelligence on the area, aside from the location of the Mirror of All-Seeing?_

_Little. The Seer's scouts have reported seeing numerous Duergar, undead, Beholders and Illithid with the Valsharess' troops. Along, of course, with the numerous denizens of the Eighth Layer of Baator. I would suggest an attempt at robbing Sinvyl of at least the Illithid allies._

_Ah, of course. _Kiira crowed. _I knew there must be another proviso worked out between you and the Seer. Illithid, is it? Well well, this might be some fun after all._

_I am to lead the delegation to negotiate with the Overmind of Zorvak Mur,_ Kimmuriel interjected forcefully. _The Seer has guaranteed it. Besides, I think a little tact will be required._

_Tactless, am I? _Kiira shot back. _Well, with all your subtlety, I suppose you won't need me to accompany you._

_That's not – _Kimmuriel paused, agitated. _I simply meant that force should be withheld unless necessary_

_Very well,_ Kiira smirked. _I shall allow you to negotiate with the Overmind, but I shall still lead the delegation, _male_._

Kimmuriel narrowed his eyes. _So be it, _mistress.

_xxx_

The dinner had concluded, predictably, with a discussion of tactics, spearheaded by Valen and Matron Myrune's patron, Tebimar. Kiira used the opportunity to catch up on some much needed rest, slipping into reverie with her eyes open.

She was rudely awoken around midnight by an extremely unpleasant psionic blast, presumably a rather smug looking Kimmuriel's version of a wake up call.

Bidding the other guests goodnight, Kiira jogged to catch up with the Seer.

"I thought I'd head out tonight, to the islands you mentioned yesterday," she said.

"Have you consulted Valen about this?" the Seer asked innocently.

"Valen?" Kiira balked. "What has he to do with it?"

"Surely you intend to make the best possible use of the resources available to you? Valen is willing to accompany you're party; his skill in battle is formidable," the Seer replied, in a tone which clearly stated that this was not a request.

After a pause, in which Kiira considered showing the Seer just how little authority she had over her, she responded "Of course, Seer. If you think it best." Now was not the time to be causing fractures in their alliance. Kiira still had a use for the Seer and her army.

Turning away to find the flame haired tiefling, Kiira caught sight of Kimmuriel's expression; he was not at all pleased. Addressing Valen, she said: "I understand you wish to accompany us on our missions?"

The tiefling merely nodded.

"Well, we are heading out to the islands tonight. Be ready to leave at 2 am."

Looking surprised and annoyed, he said "We are not normally nocturnal here. Why not wait until the morning?"

Kiira smiled. "Time is of the essence, is it not? I am not used to working with a team, I'm afraid, and not likely to change my habits now. You'll just have to manage. Or stay behind."

Valen frowned once more. "I'll be ready," he growled.

_xxx_

Two hours later, Kiira, Kimmuriel, the Bregan D'aerthe and a very grumpy and ill-rested Valen met by the bank of the Dark River, ready to disembark.

"Our first stop will be to the island with the strange town," announced Kiira.

"No surprises there," muttered Valen, as they all boarded the boatman's vessel.

Kiira eyed Cavallas curiously, and shot a questioning glance at Kimmuriel.

_He is a __Marraenoloth,_ the Psion thought. _A feindish boatman. Untrustworthy._

Kiira giggled. _Who _is_ trustworthy?_

_xxx_

The Seer stood before the summoning circle, and called her first subject of interrogation.

"Aiieeee! What wants drow with Lazy?" the imp screeched.

"I desire information on the pact between Mephistopheles and Sinvyl Bar'ritar. I also desire information on the drow known as Kiira, the Shebali."

"Not drow; no, no, no! Well, yes. Sort of." The imp cackled unhelpfully.

"You know of her?" the Seer asked calmly.

"All planars know, she makes big stir with strange magics."

"So tell me about her."

"What you give Lazy in return?"

"I will not destroy you, creature of evil," the Seer replied coolly.

"Erm, alrights. Lets see, Kiira went to Dis from Shadow Plane. She makes deal with Dispater to use portal to Sigil."

"Is that all?"

"Mmhmm, Lazy know no more."

"Then tell me of the pact between Sinvyl and Mephistopheles."

"Lazy know no pact. Drow lady discovered Big M's True Name."

"How is that possible?" gasped the Seer.

"Lazy no know."

Exasperated, the Seer pressed on. "Tell me the name of another I can call on to answer my questions. I require a powerful fiend."

"Ask Gru'ul, the quarry boss!"

Sighing, the Seer dismissed the imp, checked her summoning circle, and prepared to summon the pit fiend.

_xxx_

"Might we speak?"

The ornery tiefling shrugged, and said "If you wish, Kiira. What did you want to speak about?"

"If we're going to be fighting side by side, we need to be able to trust each other to some extent, yet I get the feeling that you don't trust me at all," said the drow.

"Is there any particular reason I should?" he asked. "I have spent many months now among the drow, and whilst there are those I would trust implicitly," Kiira had a good idea which those might be, "I am no fool. The drow are not to be trusted, not until they've proven themselves." He looked at the Psion, pointedly, "And I don't like the company you keep."

Kiira raised her eyebrows, "My company is none of your concern."

"On the contrary, I am very concerned. I am concerned for the safety of the Seer above all, and I do not believe your _friend_ has her best interests at heart."

"Nonesense," scoffed Kiira. "Kimmuriel is nothing if not a philanthropist."

"Are you mocking me?" Valen growled.

"Of course I am. You know as well as I that, Eilistraee followers aside, the drow are not concerned for the wellbeing of others. What we are _very_ concerned about is our own; and as the Valsharess is hell-bent on a slow and agonising death for my psionic friend, it doesn't take an archmage to figure out that he'll side with dear Sinvyl's enemies."

The tiefling did not look mollified. "You speak as though his motivations were readily apparent. But was it not your own race that coined the phrase 'doomed are those who believe they understand the designs of the drow'?"

"Ah, my horny friend, you are not as thick as you look. But I suppose if you were, you'd be unable to walk and breathe at the same time."

Kiira skipped off happily before the enraged tiefling had a chance to respond. Jumping onto the side of the boat, she ran lightly along the handrail towards the bow, eyeing the dark water curiously. She reached the prow and grabbed hold of the Genoa.

"Boss!"

Kiira jumped, almost slipping from the ship into the poisonous water, at Deekin's loud squawk.

"You should be careful, Boss. Deekin can't swim, and Deekin doesn't think goatman would stop to throw you rope."

"Well, he's in the minority, I think," she smiled at the little bard, who grinned toothily back.

"Deekin not know you gots drow friends," he said, eyeing the Psion warily.

"Well, I am a drow, Deekin. I used to live in the Underdark before I left for the surface," she replied.

"Deekin guesses so. But Deekin's not thinking drow have friends," he pressed.

"You want to know about Kimmuriel?" at the bard's swift nodding, she replied: "Well, there was a time when I was a member of a minor noble house in Menzoberranzan, and during my time there, I became acquainted with Kimmuriel, who was a member of a very powerful house."

Deekin had pulled out a wad of parchment began scribbling feverishly.

"Kimmuriel's house fell when Lloth returned after the Time of Troubles, and I helped him escape, and introduced him to Jarlaxle of the Bregan D'aerthe. Since that time we've been… allies, for want of a better term. There's really no more to it than that," she added, seeing the kobold's expectant grin.

"If you says so, Boss," he said sagely.

Kiira whisked the kobold into the air and spun him round as fast as he'd go. From the cockpit, Kimmuriel regarded the giggling duo incredulously.


	7. Intrepid Entreaties

**Intrepid Entreaties**

Nathyrra shivered, pulling the folds of her cloak around her. This wasn't how she had imagined her first glimpse of the surface; the moon and stars were shrouded with thick dark cloud, the freezing wind howled down from the glacier, chilling her to the bone, and as far as the eye could see was just a barren, grey-brown wasteland.

These were the Bloodstone Lands, last known location of the mercenary Jarlaxle. Nathyrra pulled her hood low over her face, and turned to pick her way down the rocky path towards the city of Heliogabalus.

_xxx_

The ghostly ship came to an unnatural halt by a makeshift quay extending to a rocky little island, and the ship's passengers leapt down, led by Kiira. Taking a look around the sparse and seemingly uninhabited island, she cast an inquiring gaze at the Psion, who just shrugged in reply. As one, they made their way towards a fissure in the rock leading deeper beneath the earth, it being the only apparent direction for travel.

The only sound to be heard as they glided through the dank passageway was an echoing drip of nearby water, the quiet scuffling of Deekin's claws, and the less quiet tromp of Valen's heavy boots – still quiet to a human's ears, but like the deafening thunder of a rothé stampede to the silent drow.

_Pharaun_, came the psychic speech of Kimmuriel, _cast silence over that bumbling buffoon before he alerts the whole Underdark of our location._

Kiira shot a warning glance at Kimmuriel, before nodding her approval at Pharaun, who was now eyeing the two drow with interest. At Kiira's signal he began pulling spell components from the folds of his _piwafwi_, and used them in a silent incantation. As the magic took hold, Valen turned to ask the drow behind him what the devil they were doing, but when he opened his mouth not a whisper escaped his lips.

Silently cursing every drow in Faerûn, he stomped away, leaving his grinning companions behind. Kiira flashed a message in the silent drow hand code, and Valas vanished into the shadows and took off into the tunnel ahead of the sulking tiefling, monitored psychically by Kimmuriel.

_Valas has encountered a scout for the Valsharess,_ thought Kimmuriel, then after a pause he continued; _the scout has been removed. I would suggest caution; clearly the Valsharess has learned of the mirror, and has sent a team to recover it._

_Indeed,_ replied Kiira. _Though I can't see what she would need with it, considering that she has an Archdevil. More likely she just wants to prevent _us_ from having it._

_My thoughts exactly, _the psion responded. _But unless she's sent a significant detachment of Red Sisters, she'll be out of luck._

_I should imagine that's just what she's done,_ said Kiira, confused.

_Ah, you haven't heard?_ Kimmuriel raised an eyebrow. _The Red Sisters are fully committed at the moment; the main detachment was sent to Chaulssin to cow the assassins, and the remainder were sent as the vanguard for the assault on Skullport._

_I thought the Skullport attack was complete?_ Kiira replied.

_It is, but the Red Sisters have had to remain to keep order, _the psion smiled. _It seems the denizens of the Port of Shadows are not at all happy with their new governor._

_You didn't think this was worth mentioning at the meeting?_ Kiira attached echoes of her growing irritation to this latest thought.

_If I had, you wouldn't know,_ shrugged Kimmuriel. _As I recall, you slept through the whole meeting._

Kiira scowled for a moment, then shrugged and smiled. _Fair enough._

The silent company made their way through the narrow tunnel, and out into a large cave. Kiira stopped to take a look around, when a darkness absolute and all encompassing descended upon them.

_We're under attack! Tell the others!_ Thought Kiira, as with a whoosh, bolts from hidden crossbows whipped past them.

_We're under assault,_ Kimmuriel's calm, measured thoughts penetrated the minds of everyone in the group. _Remain silent; do not give away our exact positions. Try to escape the darkness._

Another whoosh, this time accompanied by a thud and a stifled scream, as a bolt drove through flesh and into bone. As one the party scattered in every direction, seeking the end to the magical darkness dropped by their unseen foes.

Kiira darted towards the spot where she had seen movement in the split second before the darkness fell, hoping that the perpetrators would not have cast darkness over themselves. Her gamble paid off, and she reached the edge of the darkness; blending into the shadows as soon as she was visible again.

It wasn't soon enough, as a fireball spell came perilously close to flambéing her; she had been seen. That was immaterial now, however, as she flitted from shadow to shadow, closing in on her attackers. Attackers who were wearing the signature red armour of the Red Sisters.

_Damn Kimmuriel and his Duff Gen!_ she cursed.

_Duff Gen?_ her thoughts echoed across the cavern. _You really have spent too long among the humans._

_xxx_

"Pike off!" snarled the enormous and foul quarry boss.

"I have bound you, fiend, and you shall answer my questions," replied the Seer calmly. "Tell me what I wish to know and I shall permit you to depart back to your home."

The pit fiend snorted, and taking that as a maybe, the Seer ploughed on. "How did Sinvyl Bar'ritar come by Mephistopheles' true name?"

"Idiot drow, you think scum like us know that? Ask Big M."

The Seer sighed. "Very well then, tell me what you know about the drow called Kiira."

The fiend grinned evilly. "Kiira Kilath, you mean?"

"_Kilath?_" the Seer gasped.

"Mmm, she was an assassin for a minor noble house in the drow city of Menzoberranzan. Minor until recently, that is," Gru'ul smiled.

"She's allied to the Valsharess?" the Seer pressed.

"Pathetic mortal squabbles don't interest me. I don't give an imp's arse who she serves."

The Seer tried a different tack. "She came to Baator once, didn't she?"

"Mmph," Gru'ul acknowledged. "Went through Dis from Shar's place."

"Did she live on the Shadow Plane?"

"I don't know why she looks so damn odd, berk, so don't bother."

Satisfied she had gleaned all the information she needed from the pit fiend, the Seer banished it back to its home in Cania, then retired to her room to mull over what she had learned. From the shadows, Imloth watched her go.

_xxx_

The final Red Sister had been felled, and their leader, Sabal, had fled. The small entourage now gathered around Kalan Vandree, who was propped against a boulder with an arrow shaft poking out of his thigh bone.

"So, Kimmuriel," Kiira began, as Grey grasped the end of the bolt. "The Red Sisters are fully committed, you were saying?"

"Clearly I was misinformed," replied the psion stonily.

"Clearly," repeated Kiira, but did not pursue the matter. "Well then –"

"Why was I not informed that the Red Sisters were fully committed?" interrupted Valen, his tail lashing dangerously from side to side.

Kimmuriel spared him a disdainful glance. "They're not," he said.

"Immaterial!" the tiefling barked. "I wish to be informed of _all _intelligence, regardless of source!" Kalan bit off a scream as the bolt was pulled from his leg.

"Very well," Kira cut across the immanent snipe from Kimmuriel. _Just tell him what he wants to hear, will you?_

_I'll leave that to you,_ replied the psion.

Mollified for the moment, the tiefling said nothing further, and their fully healed party made their way to the other side of the cavern with a renewed caution.

_xxx_

Nathyrra sat nervously in a dark corner of a Heliogabalus inn, hood pulled low to diguise her ebony skin. On the other side of the room, another drow was holding court, an extravagant feather swaying magnificantly on an overlarge hat.

Presently, the male excused himself from his companions, and made his way over to Nathyrra where she sat alone in the dark. The male plonked a tall glass full of amber liquid down in front of her, and took a hearty swig from his own.

"So," he began amiably, "I assume this means my prodigal lieutenant – _former_ lieutenant, I should say – has decided to resume communication. And in such a lovely manner," he eyed Nathyrra's pleasing features appreciatively. "I must say, if I didn't know better, I'd say Kimmuriel was trying to get back in my good books!"

Somewhat perturbed by the offensive male's gall, Nathyrra replied coldly; "I'm afraid not, Jarlaxle."


End file.
